


A Bath and a Shave

by Wickedrider98



Series: The Language of Your Heart [4]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Facial Shaving, I mean... technically?, M/M, Martin is bathing Jon so its assumed he's naked but never discussed, Nudity, its so soft y'all, rated T for nudity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-18 06:33:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20634686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wickedrider98/pseuds/Wickedrider98
Summary: Jon hasn't felt clean in months. Martin offers to help.





	A Bath and a Shave

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AwkwardDuckProducktions](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AwkwardDuckProducktions/gifts).

The warm bath water washed over Jon's body as Martin helped him into the tub.

Once he was seated comfortably, Martin grabbed the shower hose.

"I'm going to start by getting your hair wet, then I'll shampoo it. There isn't much to wash, but I still want you to be clean." He explained, "ready?"

Jon nodded. Water rushed over his scalp, wetting what little hair he had. The buzzcut had been a strange feeling at first, he was used to the unkempt brown wave of shoulder length hair he'd had before The Unknowing, but he had to admit it was growing on him. At the very least when it was this short it was less obvious how little care he put into it. The water switched off and Martin reached back to grab a bottle off the sink, and squirted a bit of shampoo into his hand.

"I'm going to start washing your hair now, if that's alright." He murmured. Another nod. Martin's fingers worked into his short hair, scrubbing away months of grime. Jon's knotted muscles relaxed at the sensation of nails slowly working into his scalp.

"You like that?" Martin gently teased, a soft chuckle in his voice. Jon nodded, eyes barely open, "well, I hate to end this, but I'm going to rinse you now, okay?"

The Archivist huffed, but allowed the water to wash over his head. Martin carefully scrubbed the shampoo out of his hair, washing down in soapy trails on his body. The shower switched off suddenly.

"Okay," Martin said, "I think we're ready for the washcloth. I know you said nothing below the waist, but do you have a spot you want me to start?"

Jon motioned to his torso and Martin began scrubbing, coarse fabric gently drifting across his chest and arms. He takes his time on Jon's back, cleaning in long circular motions that cause The Archivist to sigh with content. He reached out when Martin stopped, looking at him with confusion.

"All I have left is your face." The man explained, "is it okay if I touch?"

Jon went tense, but leaned his head forward in response nonetheless. The last time he'd been in a situation involving a person doing something similar to his body had been when he was tied down and moisturized by a deranged mannequin, and that was a hard thing to forget. The feeling of cold, plastic hands forcing icy cream onto his face and chest was a sensation he hoped to never have to experience again, though he felt it every night in his nightmares. He was brought back to reality by a soft, warm, human hand gently cupping his face while the worn blue washcloth slowly cleaned his cheeks. Jon didn't notice the tears that had begun to fall out of his eyes until Martin pulled back suddenly.

"Jon? Are you okay? Am I hurting you?" His eyes were filled with concern. Jon looked around for something to write with, until Martin passed him a few sticky notes and a pen.

_You're fine Martin_, the waterlogged slip of paper said, _it's just my body, the last time I was touched like this was in The House of Wax, and that wasn't under the best of circumstances. You touching me feels so much better. Gentler._

Beads of liquid began to form in the corners of Martin's blue eyes as he read.

"Jon…" he whispered.

_It's alright. I'm alright._ _Just keep going_.

"If you're sure."

_I am._

The light scrubbing resumed and Jon found his eyes starting to droop closed, a small content sigh escaping him as Martin finished with a tiny kiss on his forehead.

"You're all done." He murmured. Jon stumbled to his feet with Martin's assistance, allowing the man to wrap him in a towel before settling on the edge. He grabbed another towel and began drying the rest of Jon, dry fabric rubbing against his cold, wet body.

“I grabbed you pajamas out of the dryer. You didn't have any of your own so I ga e you some of mine,” Martin explained, motioning to some clothes lying on the counter, “are you strong enough to get dressed by yourself?”

_ I don’t think so. _

Martin smiled.

“I can help you get dressed if you want.” I’d like that. He nodded. “I’m going to put your shirt on, alright?”

_ Okay._

Jon raised his arms as Martin slid an oversized light gray t-shirt over his head and gently pulled it down his body. It smelled of vanilla and lavender. The Archivist was brought out of his 

"Uh, Jon?" Martin asked, "how.. how do you want to do this?"

Jon thought for a moment before scribbling on the sticky note.

_ I can do that much myself._

Martin handed him the fabric and looked away as he pulled them on, his face crimson. Jon poked his shoulder once they were on, and the blonde man grabbed a pair of plaid flannel pajama pants. He bunched up the first pant leg so it was easier to put on, gently sliding it over Jon's foot and up his calf before repeating the same action with the other and pulling it up his thin body. Martin smiled when he looked at his boyfriend.

"Okay," he chirped, "you're clean, you're dressed, do you need anything else?"

Jon glanced down at himself. He felt clean for the first time in ages, a sensation he'd all but forgotten. He ran a hand over his face, fingers catching on the whiskers that had begun to grow on cheeks and neck.

_I wish my stubble would go away_, Jon wrote, _but I doubt you'll allow me to have anything sharp._

"I dunno, I think you look good, all scruffy and unshaven."

Jon smiled, warm and genuine.

"I could do it for you, you know."

_Do what?_

"I-I could shave you, your face I mean. It isn't ideal, but it'll get it off."

A warm smile played at Jon's lips.

_That would be ideal_, he responded, _go ahead_.

Martin was trying his hardest not to look thrilled, but Jon saw the way his eyes lit up before he stood.

"I'll be right back," he said, "let me go grab my supplies."

He returned carrying a can of shaving cream and a new disposal razor. Martin positioned himself so he was level with Jon's face as he sat on the lid of the toilet.

"I'm going to put the cream on, if you're ready." Martin explained, spraying a bit of shaving cream into his free hand. Jon leaned his head forward, and he set to work applying the lather of white foam. It was cool against Jon's skin, but he didn't mind as it was rubbed into his face and neck.

"Do you have a specific place you want me to start?" Martin asked after washing the excess cream off his hand.

_ My face please. I don't want to start with something sharp near my neck._

"'Course."

The razor was colder than the foam, leaving Jon to focus on the warmth of Martin's other hand caressing his left cheek as the razor gently pulled on the skin on his right, pausing occasionally to wipe the blade on the towel he had. Martin is going slow, slower than he needed to be, but Jon didn't mind. He wanted to bask in this moment, this intimacy, for as long as possible. The soft tugging stopped as Martin switched sides, his free hand cupping his now smooth cheek. There was a comfortable silence between the two of them, broken only by the soft sounds of Martin humming as he worked. Jon found his eyes starting to droop shut as he relaxed into Martin's touch.

"Jon?" His eyes opened and focused on his boyfriend, "I'm done with your face. Is it alright if I do your neck?"

The Archivist's shoulders knotted, all the tension that had been released through this process suddenly hitting him in the gut. Jon's eyes darted from the razor to Martin's face. The blonde man smiled softly and took his hand.

"It's okay if you don't want me to shave your neck," he murmured, "I know you've had bad experiences with sharp things near your throat, and you're valid in having reservations. But I want you to know that I would never, ever hurt you. You're safe with me Jon, and I don't want you to forget that."

Jon nodded. He knew this, on some level he always had. Just as he'd once associated touch with pain, he'd begun to associate Martin with warmth, love, safety. He kept that in mind as he leaned his head back, exposing his throat to the man seated in front of him. Martin's eyes widened.

"Are you sure?" He asked. Jon nodded, unmoving from his position, "okay. But if you feel uncomfortable at any time I want you to stop me."

The Archivist blinked, an unspoken agreement as he set himself on the task. The effect was instant as Martin's free hand gently cupped the back of his neck, and Jon could feel his fear of the sharp object near his throat melting away with each careful stroke of the razor.

"Alright Love," Martin murmured as he gently wiped at Jon's face with a towel, "you're all done."

The blonde tossed the towel into the small pile they'd accumulated.

"Are you strong enough to walk?" He asked, "if not I can carry you."

_I'm not_, Jon responded, _but I want to try._

"Jon."

_It'll be fine. And if it isn't you'll be right there_. Martin sighed.

"Fine," he muttered, "but don't overexert yourself."

Martin offered Jon his arm, and they began their slow trek back to the Archives. Each footstep was wobbly, Jon gripping the fabric of Martin's shirt as he moved as toddlers do when learning to walk. He's convinced Martin knew he was going to trip before Jon did, because when he nearly dragged them both down he was in a pair of strong arms, keeping him from crashing to the ground.

"I think you need some more time before you try walking again," the larger man murmured, "can I carry you now?"

Jon nodded, and was scooped up into Martin's arms barely a second later. His chest was broad and warm, and Jon found himself nuzzling into it as Martin walked steadily back to his room in the Archives before laying him down on his bed. He pulled the covers over Jon's small body and kissed his forehead.

"You look tired," he whispered, "you should rest. I'll go make tea, and bring you a cup when you wake up."

_Martin?_ Jon quickly scribbled out a note, _will you stay? Just until I fall asleep?_

Martin settled into the chair next to his bed.

"Of course."

There are fingers in Jon's hair as he starts to drift off, the sound of Martin softly singing lulling him to sleep.

_"You are my sunshine, My only sunshine, You make me happy, when skies are gray. You'll never know, dear, how much I love you, So please don't take my sunshine away."_

**Author's Note:**

> This is by far the softest thing I've ever written. Also this is 100% for AwkwardDuckProducktions, as a thank you for letting me bounce ideas off of him, as well as adding to mine. Go check him out, he's an amazing writer and an incredible person!


End file.
